


By Any Other Name

by Zivitz



Series: To Make A Home [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Babyfic, F/M, Gen, Kidfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:20:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28533570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zivitz/pseuds/Zivitz
Summary: What you want isn't always what's best.
Relationships: Abby Griffin/Marcus Kane
Series: To Make A Home [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2090235
Comments: 22
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is all Fen's fault. And Kelly's. Also, I apologize in advance, and the conclusion will be up soon.
> 
> Oh, and pretend anything between «these marks» is Trig.

He’d heard about this kind of love before. Had even thought about having it when he was young, before time and circumstance had turned him into a hard man. He wasn’t that man any more, but the idea of this love had long since been relegated to his mental attic; a wistful ‘would have been nice’, something he trotted out on rainy days when he lay in bed with Abby tracing nonsense patterns on her bare belly until she woke up and made him stop in the best way possible.

But as Marcus bounced Rosalie lightly in her sling, he thought maybe it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility after all. The baby was starting to fuss, turning this way and that as she woke from one of many naps that made up her day. He just needed to finish up this meeting and then he could see what she needed. It wasn’t quite time for her feed, but she might need changing and that was best taken care of sooner than later. When he looked up from the bundle on his chest, it was to find a surprisingly fond look on the face across from him.

“I remember when Nate was that small,” David said with a quiet smile as he started to get up. “I’ll leave you to it.”

“Are you sure?” he said, standing as well. “She’ll be fine for a few minutes.”

Miller shook his head. “It’s okay, I’ll write down some ideas and run them by you later. And,” he said, “She’s going to start howling in about thirty seconds.”

As if on cute, the baby began mewling, quickly moving from vague noises to louder complaining even as she was bounced and shushed.

“How did you know that?”

His companion opened the door and gave a half-mocking salut. “Practice,” he said, and closed the door behind him.

Marcus sighed down at his charge, shrugging off his jacket and peeling back the layers to access the baby who until a few minutes ago had been good as gold. He pulled her out, took a cautious sniff, and wrinkled his nose. Definitely in need of a change. “Is that why you’re complaining, Miss? I guess that’s a pretty good reason.”

Her bent legs kicked slightly as he held her away from him for an instant to check the status of his shirt. Also wet. He exhaled sharply. One of the things he never knew about parenting was the extra laundry. Oh, he’d expected the diapers and they were none too pleasant to deal with, but they also leaked and then there was bedding and clothing- theirs AND yours- and cloths and covers and, well. Everything. It never seemed to end.

«Let’s get us cleaned up, Little One, and then it will be time for your bottle.» The baby stopped squirming momentarily as he switched to Trig, a habit she had that never failed to amuse him. As if it surprised her every time. He pulled her close again, thankful she was small enough that a hand on her lower back was enough to support her without having to handle a soggy diaper before he was ready. She’d been in his life for three weeks and in that time he had to admit he was becoming partial to her.

He also had to admit that ‘partial’ might be a bit of an understatement.

He covered her with a blanket and awkwardly put his jacket back on, tucking her under one side. It was spring but still cool, and he hated the thought of her being cold as they stepped out into the under heated corridor.

«Just a few more minutes,» he murmured in her ear as he walked, noting the smiles from passers by. People smiled more when you had a baby, he noticed. They were more easygoing as well, more cooperative and accommodating. Frankly, Rosalie was the best thing to happen to his job in years.

If only _she_ would be so easygoing. Her volume rose steadily the closer they got to their overcrowded quarters, until he was happy to duck through their door and lay her on the pad of blankets atop the dresser they used as a changing table. The noise stopped and there was blessed silence for several seconds while she adjusted to her new position before the fussing began again. By this time he’d already grabbed a fresh diaper and dress, and before she’d worked herself into a tizzy again she was instead complaining about being divested of her clothing.

«We need to get you dry and clean,» he said as he fitted her tiny arms into equally tiny sleeves, leaving the bulk of the fabric on her chest as he moved to uncover and unpin her diaper. She must have wet quite a bit to soak through both, and he felt guilt lance through him. He should have checked her before that last meeting, even if it woke her. «Too late now, my little Rose. We’ll just have to try harder next time,» he said soothingly as he cleaned her with a wet cloth from the bin they kept handy, smiling at the expression on her face. «It’s cold, isn’t it? Maybe we should try finding a way to keep it warm.»

Rosalie flailed her limbs as Marcus attempted to pin her diaper. «I wish you’d stay still when I do this,» he muttered. «I don’t want to poke you again.» He’d already stabbed her twice this week and Arthur once, his lack of prowess at diaper changing weighing on him more heavily than he ever thought it would.

«There! Now we just need to get me a fresh shirt and-»

“What’s that about a shirt?”

He looked up from the baby to find Abby leaning against the door, bottle in hand. He laughed. “I was saying I need to get a new one,” he turned slightly and gestured at the wet sling he still wore and the dribble marks that showed on his shirt below.

Abby wrinkled her nose. “Better you than me,” she commented as she crossed over to them and kissed his cheek. “You go get changed, I’ll take over.”

He slipped past her as she flattened the baby’s dress and spoke softly. He smiled as he listened to them, hanging up his jacket and tossing the sling and his shirt into the growing mountain of laundry. He ran the water in their small bathroom and wiped himself down, thankful it was only wet and not anything worse.

Abby was sitting in the corner of their small couch, baby propped up and greedily sucking down donated breast milk from a bottle. His heart softened at the sight. He wasn’t so far past being a man that seeing the woman he shared his life with holding an infant with his own dark hair didn’t bring him a measure of pride.

“Katie and Garret March came to see me today,” she said out of nowhere.

He paused as he searched for a clean shirt. “Katie and- Farm station, right?”

“Yeah. They lost another pregnancy last week.”

“Hmm,” he said, finding one at the bottom of the mess his drawer had become. “That’s a shame.”

He shook out his shirt, vowing to find time to sort his things- he’d spent his whole life a soldier, his younger self would be ashamed at the state of his affairs- and stopped at the sight of Abby’s face out of the corner of his eye. She was watching Rosalie, stroking her bare leg as the baby grunted her way through her meal. There was something in the way she held herself, in the quirk of her mouth, that made him stop.

“Abby, what’s wrong?”

“They wanted to know if we were still looking for someone to take Rosalie.”

The air left him so quickly he wondered that he didn’t pass out. He sat on the small table across from the couch, shirt forgotten in one hand. “No.”

“Marcus-”

“We decided we would keep them,” he insisted, every fibre of his being screaming against what it knew was inevitable.

“They only want her,” she said, readjusting the baby to reach for his knee. “It would be a real home, Marcus, with people who love her. We have to at least consider it.”

He shook his head.

“Think about it. A young couple who could give her their undivided attention. They’re here in the settlement so Arthur could still know his sister. And we can still watch her grow up.”

“But-” he began, and stopped short. ‘But we’re her parents’ had been on his lips, and he wasn’t sure how true that was. He knew how he felt, but a newborn was a lot to place on Abby. That’s why he’d taken on the bulk of the infant care. But surely Rosalie didn’t know one caregiver from another at this point. He reached out to stroke a thumb across her forehead, heart stuttering as her eyes rolled back at his touch. She deserved the best he could give, and if the best was another home...

He felt Abby’s hand squeeze his knee and he shifted his gaze to her face. “When?” he choked out.

“Soon,” she said, and he could hear the wobble in her voice. “For her sake. And ours.”

Marcus bit the inside of his cheek, feeling his lower lip tremble as he tried to keep the tears at bay. He nodded shortly. “I’ll get her things together.”

“It doesn’t have to be _right_ now. We have time, we can-”

“ _Now_ , Abby. Or I don’t think I could-” he stopped and turned away as the tears threatened to overflow. 

“Okay,” she said softly, and he picked up Rosalie’s basket from next to their bed, taking it to the dresser and filling it with what clean clothing and diapers and other infant paraphernalia they’d collected in the last few weeks.

“We’ll have to get the rest to them when it’s-” He blinked hard and released a heavy breath at the feel of a touch on his shoulder. He turned around to find Abby standing there with the baby and something inside him broke. He gathered them up in his arms and let himself go. Rosalie was nearly asleep between them, and he was mindful not to make too much noise as he burrowed his face into Abby’s neck. He felt her cool small hand through his hair, murmuring softly into his ear things he couldn’t quite make out over the sound of his own crying.

“I know,” she was saying, when he came back to himself. “It’s hard. It’s so hard.”

“I love her,” his voice was muffled against her neck.

“I know you do,” she said wetly. “So do I. That’s why we’re giving her this chance at a better life.”

He stood  back at last, searching Abby’s face. She looked about as good as he felt, her eyes bloodshot and face  blotchy, cheeks wet with tears. He could feel his own trickling down through his beard. He reached for a clean cloth and gently wiped her face, paying special attention to her nose as he’d become accustomed to doing with Arthur. Abby laughed softly.

“You’re getting good at that.”

“Practice,” he said wryly, thinking of David Miller’s words. He gave her a chaste kiss, murmuring about cleaning up as he stepped into the bathroom again. At least he hadn’t bothered to put his shirt on, he’s not sure it wouldn’t be a mess by now.

When he came out a few minutes later feeling more himself- steeled with the resolve that this was the right thing to do for Rosalie, the most vulnerable of  _ all _ his people. He had done hard things for the right reason before. He could do  this .

For Rosalie. 

He bit the inside of his cheek again. The Chancellor of Arkadia was not going to show up at someone’s doorstep crying. “Ready?”

Abby shook her head. “No. But we should get going. Do you want to hold her?”

He hesitated before holding his arms out. He was almost afraid that if he held her he wouldn’t be able to let her go, but on balance the thought of letting her go out of his life  _ not _ having held her one last time was more than he could bear.

__

The hand over was easier than he thought it would be.  Katie and Garrett were working in the field next to their little one room cottage when he and Abby approached with Rosalie and her things. There were pleasantries and Marcus had taken the time to write down her schedule and a few of her tells and habits. There were tears, and  Abby had to tug  Marcus ’s shirt subtly to get the message across that  it was time to go.

“It’s almost time to get Arthur,” she’d said meaningfully, though it as nowhere near that time, and Marcus had nodded. 

“She’ll have a good home here, Chancellor,” said the man who would become Rosalie’s father.

“I’m sure she will,” was all he could say, his gaze lingering over the child who’d made her own space in his heart. 

He put his hand over the dark hair that had first pulled  him in , and smiled when she looked at him. 

«Mebi oso na hit choda op nodotaim,» he said, bending to lay a kiss on her forehead before shaking hands with the couple and turning back down the path that would lead them to the heart of the settlement  and the rest of their lives.

They were out of earshot when Abby took his hand and squeezed it. “What did you say to her?”

Marcus brought their hands to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “’May we meet again.’”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What seems best isn't always.

They walked hand in hand all the way to Medical, the public display something they rarely allowed themselves.  But today, it seemed right. He kissed her cheek outside the door. “I’ll be in my office if you need me.”

“Are you going to be okay?” 

Marcus tilted his head. “I don’t know.” He paused, then smiled weakly. “Maybe work will help.”

Abby put a hand on his shoulder. “We did the right thing.”

“I know. It just... will take some time.”

She nodded. “I’m here, too, if you need me.”

He ducked his head in acknowledgement just as several people came rushing down the corridor holding someone barely conscious. “Doctor Griffin! He fell under the horses and we couldn’t-”

The rest was lost as she ushered them through the doors, and then he was left in the empty corridor. He took a deep breath. She would be well cared for, he knew that. Best to just... keep going. He headed back toward his office, nodding at people as he passed. He felt oddly lopsided as he walked, having spent the last few weeks with an eight pound weight strapped to his chest. He felt cooler, too, and zipped up his jacket. 

He’d get used to it, he told himself as he entered his office. He sat down behind his desk and wondered why leaving an infant with people who would love her felt as momentous as the culling  of  three hundred of his people for nothing. 

It was three hours and four meetings- each of which started with “Where’s Rosalie?”-  later  before he surfaced to the  sound of his door opening and closing. He frowned slightly at the pad he’d been trying to read for the last half hour. He couldn’t concentrate, and last thing he needed was someone who-

He looked up when the smell of alcohol hit him. David Miller sat opposite him, holding out a cup of what must have been something he’d been saving. 

“I heard.”

Marcus took a drink and handed it back, sat back in his chair as he tossed the pad on his desk. “Heard what,” he winced through the aftertaste.

“That you’re trialing Rosalie with another family.”

Marcus huffed a small laugh. “Word travels fast.”

“Around here? Absolutely.” David paused. “It’s hard luck, man.”

Marcus shrugged one shoulder. “It makes sense. They’re younger. No children.” He took the proffered cup again and peered at his companion. “I hope you brought more than just one.” 

David produced another cup and a bottle, shaking them lightly in his direction. Marcus nodded. “They’re good people,” he said, almost to himself. They would take care of her. They  _ would _ , because he’d be there if they didn’t. 

“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt, though,” Miller said quietly, taking a sip out of the second cup.

M arcus paused, cup halfway to his mouth. “Abby sent you, didn’t she?”

David coughed politely. “She may have mentioned what happened. But it's been noticed you haven’t had your sidekick this afternoon. People talk.” 

Marcus pursed his lips. He knew it was true. If you sneezed in your room at midnight, someone would be asking you about your cold at breakfast. Didn’t mean he necessarily liked being the subject of discussion. “Hmm,” he said.

Miller put  his cup down on  the desk and capped the bottle. “Look, I can’t say I’ve been where you are. But it’s okay to miss her. We all will.”

He looked up at that, “All?”

“Oh please. That child has been everywhere with you for nearly a month. She’s ours, too.”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

Miller nodded, raising his cup. “To Rosalie.”

“To Rosalie,” he muttered, downing the rest of the liquor.

__

Abby was the one who usually got Arthur at the end of the day. But  she had shown up at his door and God knows  Marcus  hadn’t had the heart to turn her down. It’s not like he was making any great headway anyhow. He envied Abby that much- when she got into her doctor mode there was no room for distraction. Not quite the same when you’re looking over irrigation reports.

“Hi, Abby,” Paul, one of the caregivers, was standing lookout by the fence. He nodded at one of the girls across the yard, who whispered something into Arthur’s ear. He looked up from the bucket he was filling and his face brightened.

“I know we’re a little early,” Marcus started, but Paul just smiled. 

“It’s nice when they get to spend a bit more time with family.”

The words felt like an accusation, and when  Arthur held his hands up to Marcus  he  was more than glad of the distraction. They had Arthur, and though Marcus loved him it still felt like there was a gaping hole where Rosalie belonged.  It had only been a few hours and it felt more like a death than a new beginning.

Arthur looked behind Marcus, and then at Abby. “Baby?”

Marcus’s heart clenched, and he looked over at her. They hadn’t discussed what to tell Arthur, or even brought him up at all, and now he felt like in his rush to do what was best for Rosalie he’d neglected his  _ other _ child. 

“Baby’s gone bye-bye,” Abby said gently.

Arthur waved. 

“That’s right. All gone. Bye-bye.”

Arthur showed his hands, simple sign for ‘all gone’, and Abby nodded, choking slightly on her next words. “That’s right. All gone.”

The boy considered her, then turned back to Marcus. “Baby?” he asked. 

“Baby all gone,” he repeated, his voice more gruff than he’d intended. Everything in him screamed to go get her, that baby was **not** all gone, that it was a horrible mistake. Instead he hugged Arthur a little tighter to him and looked over at Abby. “Come on, let’s go get something to eat.”

As if he could tell things weren’t quite right, Arthur was a little more subdued that evening. At dinner he’d take a few bites and ask, “Baby?” and they’d have to go through the whole thing again. Marcus chased him half-heartedly down the hall to their quarters, and when he opened the door to let them in Arthur looked around, confused.

“Baby?”

Abby came in behind them as Marcus was saying “baby all gone” for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. 

“Maybe we could just see how-” she started, and Marcus cut her off.

“Don’t,” he said. “Even thinking it makes me want to drop everything and run to her. Let’s just... get through this.” 

He sat on the floor with Arthur and distracted him by stacking some blocks. They played for  some fifteen minutes  or more , stacking and knocking over the small towers. Arthur crowed at one particularly good crash, and without thinking Abby whispered, “Shhhh, baby is  sleeping. ”

H e looked up and around again. “Baby?” He stood up and went over Abby, patting his chubby hands on her knees.

“Baby?”

Abby looked stricken. “No, Arthur. I was wrong. Baby all gone.” 

The toddler held his hands up as if in question. “Baby?” He toddled over to the bed and looked under it, then lifted the covers to check. Then he looked in the bathroom. And the bottom drawers. And under the dresser. Each place he looked he called for his sister, until at last he made his way back to Abby and rested his head against her knee. 

“Baby,” he said sadly, and Abby covered her face to hide her tears. Then she heard the door slam, and when she took her hands away Marcus was gone.

“Papa?” said a small voice, and Abby inhaled sharply. He didn’t. He couldn’t have-

But there he was, rubbing at her knee with his chubby little hand, pointing to the door with the other and saying, “Papa? Papa?” and holding his hands up to sign ‘all gone’.

She laughed through her sobs and lifted this sweet, dear child up, clinging to him as she reassured him that “Papa will come back, I promise.”  He nodded his head and lay it down on her shoulder, little fingers twiddling with the buttons on her shirt and with the ends of her hair as she cried. Eventually he grew bored and wiggled to get down, bringing her a diaper off the pile by the dresser. It unfolded as he walked, trailing behind him as he made his way across the room, and  he held it up to her.

“I don’t know if this is for me or you, but I guess it’s time for a bath anyway,” she said, using one of the cleaner corners to wipe at her eyes. When she next looked, Arthur was sitting on the floor trying to take off his socks and failing. He fell over and bumped his head, and that was the last straw. He let out a wail that belied the gravity of his injury, and Abby scooped him up at once. 

“I know, sweetie, me too,” she cooed, rubbing at his curls. He might not know why, but he knew that something was different and wrong in his routine. By now they’d have fed Rosalie again and Marcus would have taken her into the shower with him, then sat reading her the last reports for the day while Abby chased a naked toddler around the room trying to get him into the bath. She shushed and soothed and whispered in his ear that everything was going to be okay with a confidence she didn’t feel, and hoped it would be.

\---

It was late when Marcus finally came home, the door creaking open as he slipped inside.  He didn’t bother to shower, instead shucking his jacket onto the couch and sitting down to unlace his boots. He stripped down to his underwear and climbed into bed beside Abby.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Her hand found his in the dark. “Where did you go? Did you-”

“Yes- well, no.” He turned his head toward her. “I stood down the lane for a while listening to her cry. I was ready to go get her when she stopped, so I- I went to the office. Tried to get some work done.”

He felt rather saw her nod against the pillow. “I shouldn’t have left you like that. I’m sorry,” he said again, and shifted closer to her. 

She pressed her back against him and welcomed the arm that came over her middle, covering his hand with her own. “He called for you tonight,” she said softly, and  he hummed.

“How so?”

“When you left, he pointed at the door and said asked for ‘Papa’.”

“He what?” Marcus lifted himself on one elbow and searched her face in the dim light. Abby laughed and pulled him back down with a shush.

“Wow. Papa.” He paused a moment. “I didn’t think I’d be a _Papa_ , but I suppose it’s not up to me.”

“We can call you something else, if you want. And at least you _have_ a name. When he calls for Mama and sees me instead he just starts crying.”

He squeezed her. “He hasn’t been crying so much this week,” he pointed out. “And he’s still calling for Mama, knowing it’s going to be you who comes.”

“I guess so.” 

They listened to Arthur’s  breathing for several minutes before Abby sighed. 

“I wish I’d never said anything,” she admitted.

“So do I,” he said, and she smacked him lightly. “It’s done now,” he said, nuzzling into her neck, loving the goosebumps his beard always raised there. “Let’s just get some sleep.”

It wasn’t long before his snores joined Arthur’s slow steady breaths, and Abby found herself drifting away.

\---

M arcus had gotten used to waking up to an empty bed, so that wasn’t it, but  perhaps  the unfamiliar noises in the room. He was half-asleep as he rolled over to see Abby in her night clothes, jamming a foot in her boot and grabbing his jacket off the couch. 

“Where are you going,” he asked groggily. His brain couldn’t quite connect what was happening. Maybe an emergency in medical? She hadn’t had one of those calls since they got the children.

She came back to the bed and ran a hand down his face. She kissed his forehead. “To fix things,” she said, and then all that was left was the rush of cool air and a closing door. 

He frowned after her, but exhaustion took over and he fell back onto his pillow with a sigh. If she was off to medical there was no point in waiting up for her. 

He  roused some time later to another rush of cool air and the sound of Abby talking quietly. 

“We’re home, sweetheart. We missed you so much.” The sound of something being put on the floor and a small whimpering noise. “I know, baby, I know.”

_ That _ woke him. “Abby? What happened?”

“I woke up for her feed,” she said, sitting on the bed with Rosalie in her arms. “Didn’t I, baby? And I got so sad.” She brushed some hair away from the baby’s face and then turned to Marcus. “And then I got _mad_. At myself, at this whole situation. So I went and got her back.”

He blinked at her, and the child in her arms, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Went and got her? Just like that?”

“Just like that,” she said firmly. “They were up with her anyway, she was screaming herself hoarse.” Abby smiled down at the baby. “Until I took her. Then she was quiet. _You_ know your mama, don’t you, sweetie?”

Rosalie just blinked slowly, dark blue eyes barely able to make out shapes even in well lit spaces, but head turning to the familiar voice and smell of  _ mother _ .

“I have to go take my things off, I’ll be right back.” She kissed the baby’s cheek as she passed her to Marcus. 

Scarcely twelve hours since he’d handed her off and only now did everything feel  _ right _ again. Like he could  _ breathe _ . He stroked his thumb over her brow in the dim light and whispered low so only she could hear.

«Welcome home, daughter.»


End file.
